


how I wish I was free

by aceofjapan



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Day 2 - Sound, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Gender Dysphoria, Happy Ending, Internalised Transphobia, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Trans Victor Nikiforov, Transphobia, YOI Soulmates Week, a lot of gender feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25842907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofjapan/pseuds/aceofjapan
Summary: Not having a soulmate wasn‘t unheard of: there were people out there who were not destined to be with anyone, neither platonically nor romantically. Victor tried to accept the fact that he was simply one of them.Beyond all his hope and wishful thinking, it‘s wasn‘t hard for him to believe. There had always been that voice at the back of his mind telling him that he was unlovable. That it was better that no one was saddled with him as their soulmate.It was the same voice that always whispered to him that he waswrong, wrong, wrong,that he was abnormal, a freak.Written forYOI Soulmates Week 2020: Day 2 - SoundWhenever your soulmate speaks your name, you can hear it in your mind.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 114
Kudos: 353
Collections: Yuri!!! On Ice Soulmates Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! This story was written for Day 2 of [YOI Soulmates Week 2020](https://twitter.com/YoI_Soulmates), for the prompt "Sound".
> 
> Thank you to the lovely [Sora](https://twitter.com/rainysorarts) for beta reading! ❤
> 
> I'm not saying much about the medical aspect of transitioning and how it would affect skating in this fic, because that's not really what it is about. I have my thoughts on that, but it didn't seem to fit with the tone of the story. I apologise if it feels like it's glossed over. I wanted to focus more on the soulmate aspect. 
> 
> But I'll just let you judge for yourself. Have fun!
> 
> This story is completed; all chapters will be posted this week.

There was one thing that Victor was absolutely certain of: he did not have a soulmate.

Ever since he‘d been a kid, he‘d been listening intently, ever hopeful, ever wishing, but he‘d never heard. And eventually, the bone deep worry and uncertainty had crystallised into an unshakeable conviction: he did not have a soulmate.

All around him he heard stories as he grew up, from his mother and the rest of his family, from books and movies, even, as the years passed, from his friends and peers. They all told him the same thing.

Whenever your soulmate speaks your name, you can hear it in your mind.

It‘s not like someone actually speaking to you, he‘d been told. You didn‘t hear the actual voice of the person, couldn‘t distinguish their accent or even their gender, wouldn‘t recognise it if you already knew them. It was more like an echo, a whisper of a word in your head. You could discern their tone of voice though, whether they spoke your name casually or fondly, whether they were excited or annoyed.

Victor had never heard any such thing. 

He grew older and his mind remained empty of the reassuring presence of his soulmate.

Not having a soulmate wasn‘t unheard of: there were people out there who were not destined to be with anyone, neither platonically nor romantically. Victor tried to accept the fact that he was simply one of them.

Beyond all his hope and wishful thinking, it‘s wasn‘t hard for him to believe. There had always been that voice at the back of his mind telling him that he was unlovable. That it was better that no one was saddled with him as their soulmate.

It was the same voice that always whispered to him that he was _wrong, wrong, wrong,_ that he was abnormal, a freak. 

It had been quiet at first, vague, not telling him in so many words, but rather sitting at the base of his skull and the bottom of his chest quietly, a wordless, uncomfortable, itching feeling. 

It wasn‘t until he grew, until his body reached a point where it was changing, that it found its words.

"Your hips are too wide“, it told him, "you‘re too soft. Look at your chest. It will keep growing. All that softness, lips and cheeks and arms and belly.“

_Wrong, wrong, wrong._

He watched his rinkmates with seething envy, how their shoulders broadened and their voices became deeper, their faces and limbs growing into their edges and sharp lines. Even as they sprouted spots and struggled with their jumps as their growth spurts left them awkward and uncoordinated, Victor was convinced they didn‘t know just how lucky they were.

And all around him people kept insisting that there was nothing wrong with him. No, quite the opposite: he was growing into "such a beautiful young woman“, drawing admiring glances from friends and strangers alike, suffering too many unwanted touches from people he didn‘t know, to his hair, his waist, his cheeks.

He was so pretty, they said. He was blossoming. He turned the young men‘s heads, they said, and oh, how he wished he could be happy about that. But instead, it all just felt ashen and bitter on his tongue.

No, Victor was not surprised that he didn‘t have a soulmate. Not when he was all wrong, though sometimes he wasn‘t sure if it was his mind or his body that was out of place. But who would want to be with him, who would want to spend the rest of their life with him when Victor‘s gaze would always be clouded with envy and bitterness rather than love and kindness?

It was better for him to be alone.

And so he threw all of his strength into his skating, and he thrived.

He funnelled all of his frustration into higher, better, more jumps, all of his bitterness into tighter spins, all his envy into sharper edges, carving deeper.

And soon enough he found himself looking down from the podium more often than not.

He rose above and beyond the ranks of his competitors, soon built himself a reputation with his first Junior World Championship, his first Junior World Record, with more and more jumps of increasing difficulty.

And then he found himself in that one glorious moment, that moment more awash in pride than any of his victories had been thus far. He found himself at his last Junior Worlds before moving on to the senior division, standing at the boards to watch the junior men‘s free skates and while he still admired their narrow hips and broad shoulders in their simple costumes, for once he was not miserable with envy because the one thought that crystallised at the forefront of his mind as they jumped and spun and stepped was _I am better than every single one of them_.

The thought washed over him like a cold flood, waking him up, and he felt like he opened his eyes for the first time. With a clarity like ice, the thought went through his mind. _You want to be like them? You can be like them, and better_.

Once he was back in St. Petersburg, another gold medal in his suitcase, he marched straight into Yakov‘s office the next morning.

* * *

He lost a season over his transition, relearning his changing body, relearning his jumps, having to claw his way at them harder this time, despite the increased strength of his muscles and his improved stamina. He didn‘t mind it; it was worth it, for this. 

It didn‘t even draw a lot of notice, not at first. Yes, he‘d been a big talent in the women‘s junior division, but it wasn‘t that unusual for talents to get lost at the transition from juniors to seniors, or at least to take a season or two to work their way up the ranks. 

It wasn‘t until just before he entered his first challenger competition in the senior division at nineteen that the Yubileyny Sport Club officially announced him as Victor Nikiforov, competing for Men‘s Seniors.

Victor spent way more time than he would admit to staring at that little press announcement, leaning over the boards at the rink, running his eyes over the words over and over again.

 _Victor Nikiforov, competing for Men‘s Seniors_.

* * *

It was only a few hours later that Victor heard it for the first time.

_Victor?_

He thought he‘d imagined it, that first one, a voice, soft with wondering and surprise, whispering his name. Put it down to his own thoughts, still sometimes caught off guard by the fact that this was now his name, not just in the privacy of his own head but also as it left other people‘s lips. The name by which he was known to the world.

But then it happened again a minute later, more deliberately this time. A voice, sounding out his name slowly, three times in a row, as if trying to get used to the feeling of it on their tongue.

_Victor…. Victor. Victor._

Victor went rigid where he was lounging on the sofa, tightening his arms around Makkachin. There was no way he had imagined it this time, and there was no way to mistake it for anything other than what it was, the feeling of not-quite-a-sound, not-quite-a-thought that seemed to originate from somewhere outside his own head… it was too strange to not recognise it, even if he‘d never felt it before.

It was his soulmate. 

His soulmate was saying his name. 

Something painful clenched in Victor‘s stomach, excitement or dread, he could not tell them apart. He had a soulmate. And his soulmate knew him. 

His soulmate knew now, what he was. 

Holding his breath and clutching Makkachin close to him, he waited to hear the voice again, waited to hear its tone changing to sharp derision, dripping hate. 

But it didn‘t appear again right then. For a few more agonising hours, there was silence in Victor‘s mind as he rolled around the dread from one side to another, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Surely it was too good to be true. Surely there was no one who could love Victor as he was. Even now, when what he saw in the mirror matched so much closer with how he saw himself in his own mind, these thoughts still wormed their way inside sometimes. That he wasn‘t quite right. That he wasn‘t quite real. 

But when his soulmate‘s voice reappeared a few hours later, there was nothing but excitement that could be read from their voice, a happy eagerness that seemed to be only rising in intensity over the course of a few minutes as, Victor assumed, his soulmate was having a conversation about him. 

There was no judgement to be detected in that strange presence of his name in his own head, no disappointment. The strangeness of the still so new feeling aside, it filled Victor with wonder. That anyone could talk about him with such genuine enthusiasm, even after all this.

It‘s not like Victor hadn‘t had any positive reactions to his transitions. Yakov had been nothing but supportive in his grumbly way; his mother, though he wasn‘t quite sure she entirely understood, had promised him that nothing would change her love for him. The majority of his rinkmates had accepted his new name without an issue, and while some of them still slipped up sometimes, he never felt it was done with any ill intent. In the many, many conversations Victor has had to have about his transition with friends, acquaintances, doctors, strangers, he had been given words of support and encouragement by many. But still he couldn‘t help but feel, sometimes, that they must talk about him quite differently when he was not around. He saw the raised eyebrows, the doubtful glances and he had often wondered how many of those who congratulated him on _living his truth_ would sneer about him behind his back.

But this person—his soulmate—was talking about him so freely and happily when they knew—or assumed—Victor couldn‘t hear them… there was no pretence in it. No falseness. Even Victor was unable to doubt their sincerity. It made him feel unworthy, to be blessed with a soulmate who not only accepted what he was but seemed to be actively enthused about it. 

But then, he mused, that was the nature of soulmates, wasn‘t it? If his soulmate was someone who couldn‘t bear his being trans… then they wouldn‘t be his soulmate in the first place. If they were going to be matched in spirit, surely their values and beliefs would be at least somewhat compatible. 

Victor couldn’t help but wonder if he knew his soulmate. If he did, they couldn‘t be too close—at least, they would never have called each other by name yet. Once your soulmate said your name in your presence, he‘d been told, you‘d immediately connect them with the voice in your head. But Victor had never even heard them say his name before, so they might be slight acquaintances at most.

But then that sudden enthusiasm today… Victor thought it more likely that his soulmate, whoever they were, had only found out about him today. They must have seen the press release, or perhaps some of the articles that had no doubt already been written in the various media outlets and figure skating blogs. Perhaps they had connected with his story, perhaps they were even trans themselves. 

Victor knew how much it had helped him, how much more connected he had felt when he‘d read about other trans athletes and their achievements. Perhaps his soulmate, too, would be able to draw strength from Victor. The thought was strangely comforting.

The only problem with this theory was that it meant his soulmate might be anywhere in the world, and he had no way of knowing when they would meet. Statistically it was likely that they would—almost all soulmates encountered each other eventually. Victor was impatient, but he‘d just have to trust that their paths would lead them together eventually.

* * *

There was one thing that Yuuri was absolutely certain of: He did not have a soulmate.

Even at almost 23 years old, he had never heard the tell-tale voice saying his name in his head. He was sure by now that it would never come.

He didn‘t mind it terribly. 

He was caught up in his skating anyway, and then there was college, and what little time didn‘t get consumed by these he spent with Phichit. 

All things considered he didn‘t feel like he was missing anything. And how could he? It was hard to miss something he‘d never known. 

He had never been much interested in dating, even though it wasn‘t too unusual to date around whether or not you knew you had a soulmate, since plenty of soulmates were platonic or only met fairly late in life. He had had just enough flings to figure out that he was indeed bi, but still prefered to focus on his skating. 

When he was on the ice, everything fell by the wayside, all his insecurities, all his worries, all his doubts. Everything was simpler on the ice, and movement spoke to him the way no soulmate could. 

It was hard work, tearing his way through the ranks of figure skaters, painstakingly climbing higher, higher, ever closer to reaching his goal of skating on the same ice as his idol.

For a long time, Yuuri had not thought it would be possible—he would have had to be content with skating in the same competition as Victor, without being able compete against him directly. Back when he was still skating in the women‘s division under the name of Victoriya Nikiforova. He had followed Victor‘s career religiously ever since his first Junior Worlds championship, and it had been a blow for Yuuri‘s motivation when he had disappeared for a season after Junior‘s. Many skaters didn‘t make the transition between divisions, but for someone who had been dominating the fields in Juniors to just disappear from the roster… 

When Victor reappeared the next season, his long hair shorn, his body more angular and muscled than it had been, with a new name and slated for the men‘s Senior Division, so much clicked into place. Victor‘s focus on jumps, pushing harder and further than any of his competitors. The way he‘d pushed the envelope with regards to costumes, combining the traditional skirts with pants and incorporating the clean lines and flowing shirts usually seen in men‘s costumes. His reputation of being a loner among his competitors, never socialising much.

It all made sense in Yuuri‘s mind, and it was wonderful to see how much more comfortable Victor appeared now when he was seen in public or on his social media. He seemed to have gained a whole new confidence, and a certain sense of collectedness, even as he calmly faced the invasive questions that were now directed at him from all sides.

But, Yuuri had to admit, what had been most thrilling to him was the thought that he was now given the chance to meet his idol on a level playing field. He would be able to compete against Victor, if only he made it far enough.

He let the thought carry him, let it burn under his skin with its warmth whenever the ice became too cold and unforgiving. He knew Victor‘s transition wasn‘t about him, knew it would likely not mean anything to Victor how much his strength had inspired Yuuri. But Yuuri had been given a gift, and he would not squander it thoughtlessly.

Who could blame him, then, that he didn‘t have a thought to spare about soulmates?

It had taken him a long time, much longer than it would most skaters who ever got to this level, but he had finally qualified for the Grand Prix final, after unexpectedly soaring through his qualifiers with a silver at Skate America and a thrilling gold at the NHK Trophy. He was going to Sochi, and for the first time, he would stand on the same ice as Victor. 

He‘d been in the same competitions with Victor before, at Worlds and a couple of Grand Prix qualifiers, but never in the same group—never had they had practice or warm-up together, never had they stood in the same line-up at center ice as they were introduced to the crowd. 

Never had Yuuri felt like he was good enough to actually try and _talk_ to Victor. 

But this time, it would be different.


	2. Chapter 2

Victor had been trying to focus on his own warm-up. He usually did, not being in the habit of watching the other competitors on the ice, not since it had become more of a rule than an exception that he climbed the top of the podium ahead of them.

It wasn‘t that he wasn‘t interested in their skating or that it worried him, but he often felt like his gaze wasn‘t particularly welcome. That him watching put more pressure on the less experienced skaters than there needed to be. So he kept to himself.

But this time, he couldn‘t help but look up from his stretches and join Chris, who was standing at one of the TV screens broadcasting the programs. The uncomfortable heaviness and slight tingling of shock that came with a botched program was palpable in the air. 

Victor reached Chris‘ side just in time to see the skater on the ice take another fall, making both of them wince in sympathy. It had looked bad, and the heaviness with which the skater picked himself up again and resumed his program made Victor think that perhaps he had injured himself.

"What‘s going on with Katsuki?“, he asked with a sympathetic grimace. It surprised Victor to see him fall apart; Katsuki had done so well in his qualifiers this year that he‘d been talked of as a medal contender, a dark horse of sorts. 

Chris next to him pulled up his shoulders.

"I‘m not sure“, he said. "Perhaps it‘s just the pressure that got to him. Yuuri‘s never been the most confident, he does his best work at the small competitions, usually.“

Victor nodded thoughtfully, but seeing the utter misery etched in Katsuki‘s face as he took the last steps of his program, the bitter disappointment in his features as he skated off the ice, made him think that there might be something else going on.

It made his chest feel tight with unusual worry. Victor hadn‘t met Katsuki before, had no reason to feel for him like this. But the other skaters and coaches scattered around the room seemed to feel the same way, judging by the subdued atmosphere. This was something that Victor appreciated about the figure skating community. Among his competitors and their teams he had never experienced any kind of glee over a skater bombing their program, no matter how much it might improve their own chances at a medal. No one liked to see a fellow skater fall apart like this.

With a shake of his head Victor gave Chris a commiserating pat on the shoulder before going back to his own warm-up. "You‘re up soon“, he murmured, "don‘t let yourself get too distracted.“

Chris nodded, and Victor turned away, forcing himself to focus.

As he stretched out his hips in a deep split, he couldn‘t help but think of his soulmate. Competitions were usually the time when Victor heard that reassuring voice in his head most often, always tinged with that same enthusiasm and excitement that had been his companion for the last eight years. This made Victor sure that his soulmate was still following his career, still watching him skate, and it gave Victor something to strive for. Hearing his soulmate utter his name in wonder and admiration when he broke another record still thrilled him even after winning gold had gotten to be a routine. 

The mentions of Victor‘s name swelled and ebbed with the skating season, which made sense, but they never quite disappeared even in the off season. The longest he had gone without hearing his soulmate had been three weeks one particularly dull summer, but then a new ad campaign Victor had done for Versace had been released and his soulmate’s voice had been back, reliable as ever. Full of praises first, and then, later, with stifled moans that made Victor blush.

In the run-up to the Final, Victor had to admit that the voice had been tinged with a note of worry or nerves more often, though he didn‘t quite understand why. Victor may no longer be young for a figure skater, but he was in good shape, and there was nothing indicating that he wouldn‘t be taking gold again. He wondered if it was something else his soulmate was worried about.

And then there had been no mention of Victor‘s name all weekend. Not when he was skating his short program or in the hours after. Not during the televised public practice. And not a hint of it today. Victor didn‘t mind admitting that he missed it, nor that it worried him. While his soulmate didn‘t seem to be able to watch his competitions live all the time—which made sense, since he competed in different time zones all over the world—they always seemed to be catching up with it as soon as they could, or perhaps at least discussing his results. He wondered if something had happened in his soulmate‘s life that kept them away from following the competition.

But Victor couldn‘t worry about it too much now. Chris was heading out onto the ice now, which meant that it would be Victor‘s turn soon. He got on his skates and thought no more about it.

He almost flinched when he was standing at the top of the podium, posing with his medal for the cameras, and his soulmate‘s voice popped into his head, as always clear as day and unaffected by the level of noise surrounding him.

It was soft and sad, tinged with regret and resignation even alongside its fondness. It sounded like a goodbye, and Victor‘s heart clenched painfully in his chest.

* * *

Yuuri didn‘t even want to go close to the rink. He watched the medal ceremony on one of the TVs backstage, mostly because they needed to wait until it was over before they could leave anyway. 

Victor posed with his gold medal on screen, kissing it for the cameras as he always did, and Yuuri felt a flicker of fondness through all of the hurt. He hadn‘t been able to watch Victor‘s programs this weekend, but Victor had done amazingly as always, he was sure. He had made it, had become the first skater to achieve five consecutive Grand Prix titles. 

"Congratulations, Victor“, he murmured to himself, and though he heard how defeated his own voice sounded, he meant it. 

For a second, he thought he saw some undefinable emotion flicker over Victor‘s face on screen, but then it was gone, and Yuuri turned away, looking down at his phone.

He should probably call his family soon.

* * *

With everything that had been going on, Victor had quite forgotten about Katsuki, he had to admit. He knew the Japanese skater had come in last, to no one‘s surprise, but he hadn‘t thought any more about it beyond that.

That was, until he was forcefully reminded.

Until he offered someone who he thought was a fan and who looked at him with open reverence on his face a picture. Until that person turned and walked away from him, looking like his heart had just been broken.

It wasn‘t until then that Victor saw the skate bag he was wheeling behind him, it wasn‘t until he heard a reporter and his coach call after him that he made the connection.

Katsuki-kun. Yuuri.

Victor was an ass.

* * *

Looking back, Victor wasn‘t quite sure how he had gone the whole evening without calling Yuuri by his name. 

Yuuri hadn‘t been very talkative when he‘d first drunkenly approached him and Yuri Plisetsky at the banquet, and he hadn‘t been very inclined to listen to anything anyone had to say either. 

Victor knew he‘d tried to get Yuuri‘s attention at couple of times at the beginning, but he‘d called him "Katsuki“, as he had always done when he had any occasion to talk about the skater, just to avoid any confusion with his young rinkmate.

And then… and there had been all the dancing, and taking pictures, and the pole and by the time he started thinking of Yuuri by his first name, he was too busy staring slack-jawed to really call him anything.

(Though plenty of alternatives presented themselves readily without Victor having to think about it. Beauty. Gorgeous. Sexy. Sweetheart. Or possibly just Future Husband.)

Later on he would spend plenty of time thinking about it, going back over the evening to see that yes, indeed, neither of them had ever called the other by his first name.

Not until Yuuri stumbled off the pole, threw his arms around Victor‘s neck and demanded "Be my coach, Victor!“

And there it was. That same reverence, that same adoration and unbridled enthusiasm, mirrored in the same moment inside Victor‘s head and on Yuuri‘s tongue.

Eyes wide, Victor‘s arms came around Yuuri on instinct as Yuuri started to sway on the spot, but everything in Victor‘s mind had come to a screeching halt.

 _Soulmate_ , was all he could think. _My soulmate_.

He only just stopped himself from blurting out Yuuri‘s name, too, desperate to make him understand. But there were people crowded all around them, and they were all staring at them.

"Okay“, Victor said with a nervous laugh. "Okay, let‘s dance, then.“

Yuuri blinked up at him from his large, dark eyes.

"Dance?“

"Yes. You wanted a dance battle, did you not? Well, get your pants back on and we‘ll dance for it. What do you say?“

A grin split Yuuri‘s face in answer and he nodded, and Victor held on to his arm to steady him as Yuuri pulled up his pants. 

Then Victor didn‘t lose another moment before dragging him onto the dance floor, away from the crowd.

He draped his arms around Yuuri‘s shoulders and Yuuri draped his arms around Victor‘s waist without having to be prompted, which made warmth bloom in Victor‘s chest. 

He stared at Yuuri, unable to tear his eyes away from his sweet face, flushed with drink as they swayed more or less in place with the music.

"Darling“, Victor whispered when he was fairly certain that most people‘s attention had wandered elsewhere, with a reverence that felt quite foreign to his own voice, "sweetheart, _solnyshko_ , my lovely _Yuuri_.“

Yuuri‘s drooping eyes snapped open, staring at him, open-mouthed.

"Whoa“, he said, "Do that again.“

Victor couldn‘t contain a grin this time. "Yuuri“, he said, brushing his thumb lightly against Yuuri‘s neck.

Yuuri shook his head, as if he couldn‘t quite believe what he was hearing. 

"What is— how… how did you do that?“

Victor couldn’t help but laugh at Yuuri‘s stunned look, but Yuuri just shook his head again.

"It‘s—it‘s like you have two voices“, he mumbled, "I‘m really drunk, aren‘t I?“

Carefully brushing back Yuuri‘s hair from his forehead, Victor said: "Well, yes. But you‘re also my soulmate, darling.“

Yuuri‘s frown was not the reaction that Victor had expected.

"I don‘t have a soulmate.“ 

"Oh, but you do, Yuuri. You can hear my voice in your head, can you not?“

Yuuri shook his head again, and Victor wanted to smooth out the furrow in his brow. 

"No, that‘s not right. No one‘s ever said my name in my head before.“

"Ah.“ Victor gave him a sad smile, brushing his fingers through Yuuri‘s hair again. "I suppose I haven‘t. I‘m sorry. But I‘ll say your name as much as you‘d like from here on out, to make up for it.“

For a long time, Yuuri stared at him, wide-eyes and open-mouthed, as the information was penetrating the alcohol haze in his brain. 

"You can‘t be my soulmate“, he then said, and Victor‘s stomach sank. Had he made some mistake? He was so sure of what he‘d heard, and Yuuri had heard him too, right?

"And why is that?“, he asked, trying to remain calm, trying to squash down the sinking feeling that his soulmate was _rejecting_ him.

"You‘re _Victor Nikiforov_ “, Yuuri said, as if that explained everything, and yes, there it was again, so close, Yuuri‘s voice inside his head. "You‘re…“

Victor held his breath, forcing himself to wait for Yuuri to finish the sentence, to not substitute any of the words his mind supplied immediately.

_Wrong. Fake. Disgusting. A Woman._

"You‘re _everything_ “, Yuuri whispered instead, his eyes screwed shut as he looked down, "and i‘m just…“

And Victor was reminded of how anxious his soulmate‘s voice had been talking about him in the last few weeks. He remembered the misery on Yuuri‘s face on the ice the day before, the defeat in his voice as he whispered Victor‘s name atop the podium.

"Yuuri“, Victor whispered, and he hoped that Yuuri could hear all that he felt in his voice. "You don‘t… you‘re wonderful.“ He tucked his fingers under Yuuri‘s chin and lifted it up so he‘d meet Victor‘s eyes. "I don‘t remember the last time I had as much fun as I had tonight, with you. Hell, I‘m not sure I ever had this much fun. And your voice inside my head all these years… all your encouragement and enthusiasm… it‘s been everything to me, too. I wouldn‘t be where I am today without you.“

Yuuri‘s eyes widened, but he still looked doubtful. Victor hated to see this expression on his face, one he had seen in his own mirror more than enough. Like he wasn‘t good enough.

He gave Yuuri a small smile. "We should talk about this more tomorrow. When you‘re… feeling better. Okay? But for now, I believe you owe me a dance off? You‘ll have to show me some moves if you want to win me as your coach.“

Yuuri gasped. "You‘ll be my coach? For real?“

"I promised, didn‘t I? But only if you win the dance off.“

A glint of determination appeared in Yuuri‘s eyes, and he straightened up from where he had been hunched over leaning against Victor, back suddenly ramrod straight.

"Dance with me, then!“

* * *

The next morning, Yuuri woke up, sore all over and head pounding, when someone called his name.

Or not so much called, he realised as he slowly and reluctantly returned to consciousness, but rather moaned and gasped.

Yuuri felt himself blushing furiously and he forced his eyes open to figure out who was making these noises so early in the morning. Had he gone with someone last night? His memories were rather fuzzy. Perhaps they were trying to wake him up for another round? Judging by his own straining hardness he felt when he rolled over, this may have been going on for a while. 

He was in his own hotel room. Alone. 

He sat up quickly and regretted it immediately when the room started spinning around him. Groaning, he blinked away the spots dancing before his eyes and looked around again. No, he was definitely alone.

But there was still that voice, moaning his name.

Yuuri turned his head this way and that, trying to determine where the voice was coming from, but it didn‘t seem to make a difference.

It was like the voice was… right inside… his head.

Yuuri blinked rapidly through the haze still lying on his senses and allowed himself to really focus on the way the voice sounded. 

He couldn‘t distinguish any gender or accent or any other distinct feature other than it‘s tone. And his own name was the only thing he heard.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Yuuri fisted his hands in his sheets.

Had he met his soulmate last night?

He tried to recall the banquet, but all he could remember was all the champagne he‘d drunk, and then there was the indistinct impression of a lot of dancing and a number of strong emotions he couldn‘t quite define. Who had he—…

And _god_ , if that voice wasn‘t distracting. He couldn‘t focus with that voice moaning in his head. Perhaps he should just wait until they were done. Perhaps he should—…

Yuuri couldn‘t help but palm himself through his briefs. The voice sounded so aroused, so desperate almost. If they had met last night, Yuuri wondered, were they doing this on purpose? We’re they putting on a show for him?

Yuuri wondered if he should be feeling uncomfortable; he certainly would if he overheard some other stranger masturbating to the thought of him. But all Yuuri felt was _want_. Perhaps it was in the nature of the soulmate bond. He supposed it was safe to say that their bond was not a platonic one.

With a sigh of resignation, Yuuri pulled down his briefs and took himself in hand.

It wasn‘t until he finished and, by the sounds of it, his soulmate, too, that he really started to take stock of his situation. He was in his hotel room, yes, and his clothes were scattered around the room, with the exception of the boxer briefs he was wearing. That much wasn‘t unusual; it was close enough to the few other times Yuuri had woken up after having a drink too many. 

He found his glasses and his phone on the bedside table and picked both of them up. His phone told him that it was a quarter to nine, much earlier than he usually would have woken up under the circumstances, without this rather intimate wake-up call. But he—or someone had also set an alarm on his phone for nine o‘clock, which was… optimistic at best, naive at worst. But here he was, awake, and while he still felt bone tired, he also knew he was too keyed up to sleep again right now. 

Next he noticed there was a glass of water and some painkillers on a piece of paper on the bedside table, which he immediately reached for. He took two pills, washing them down with the water before picking up the note.

_10 a.m._

_Star Café_

❤ _Victor_

Yuuri frowned down at the note. It was not his own handwriting, nor any he recognised. He stared at the name signed at the bottom.

"Victor…?“, he muttered to himself, and just then he heard his soulmate’s voice clear and happy in his own mind. _Yuuri!_

Yuuri shook his head. Had he met Victor last night? Had he talked to him? Oh god, surely he had made a fool out of himself. But then, what was this note? Was he supposed to meet Victor for coffee? He‘d seen the Star Café before this weekend, it was only a couple of minutes‘ walk from the hotel.

"But why would Victor want to meet with me?“, he murmured, and there was his soulmate‘s voice again, questioning this time. _Yuuri?_

Something tickled at the back of Yuuri‘s mind and he stilled, breath catching in his throat. He looked up from the note, eyes lingering only for a split second at the small heart that Victor had apparently drawn next to his name.

Yuuri licked his lips. Took a deep breath. "Victor…?“, he whispered.

 _Yuuri…_ came the immediate response, a fond smile audible in the name this time, with just a hint of a sultry edge.

"Oh God“, Yuuri groaned, and he felt heat rising into his cheeks. Had he just jerked off to the sound of _Victor Nikiforov_ moaning his name? Oh, much, _much_ worse: How many time before had he jerked off while moaning Victor‘s name? What could possibly make Victor still want to meet him after that?

Burying his face in his pillow, Yuuri screwed his eyes shut, trying to will himself to remember last night, but there was nothing more than the vague feelings he‘d already recalled. 

He supposed it was no wonder, now, that he thought he didn‘t have a soulmate. What reason would Victor have to ever talk about him? He hadn‘t even known Yuuri when they had met after the Final. And now… they were soulmates?

If the mere notion wasn‘t unthinkable, Yuuri might have believed the soulbond had made a mistake. 

Next to Yuuri, his phone alarm went off, and he burrowed deeper into the pillow reluctantly. He supposed it was unavoidable. He would have to meet Victor. All of his mortification aside, Victor didn‘t deserve to be stood up by his soulmate. Victor deserved to have a soulmate who would be good to him. And since they were stuck together for better or for worse, Yuuri supposed that would have to me him.

Yes. He sat up abruptly, one hand fumbling to turn off his alarm. He could do this. He could be a decent person, for Victor. The kind of soulmate Victor deserved.

* * *

Victor was already inside the Star Café when Yuuri hurried through the door, only a few minutes late. He looked adorably disheveled, freshly washed hair falling softly into his face, sticking up in places where the wind had swept through it, and he blushed immediately when he spotted Victor.

Perhaps it hadn‘t been entirely fair play to wake Yuuri up the way he had, but it was his own small revenge for the at least a dozen times that Victor had been blindsided by having his soulmate‘s voice moaning his own name in his mind, often at the most inopportune moments. 

Besides, remembering the way they had danced the night before, the way Yuuri had danced, his lithe body twisting around the pole, it had been impossible for Victor not to lay a hand on himself. He had to admit, though, that perhaps he had allowed himself to moan a little more freely than usual.

He hadn‘t been sure, at first, if Yuuri had heard him at all, or if he‘d still been sleeping, but Yuuri‘s hesitant voice in his mind only a few minutes later was a good indication, and the expression on Yuuri‘s face now really made it quite obvious.

Victor grinned and waved at Yuuri, and Yuuri ducked his head, pulling off his scarf and coat as he walked towards Victor through the warm café.

"Hi“, Yuuri said, a little breathless as he dropped into the chair opposite Victor, and Victor smiled.

"Good morning, Yuuri!“

Yuuri flinched a little at the sound of his name, looking at Victor still with that same incredulous expression on his face.

"Uhm“, Yuuri said, and Victor could see his throat moving as he swallowed, "good morning, Vi-Victor.“


	3. Chapter 3

It was more than a year, many kisses, two gold rings and one gold medal at World‘s later that Victor and Yuuri were back in Hasetsu. 

After their respective Nationals, Yuuri had just up and left for St. Petersburg, unable to be apart from Victor any longer than necessary. He‘d taken a single suitcase and his skate bag, just enough to get him through the rest of the season.

Now that the season was over, they were back in Hasetsu for a few weeks, and going through Yuuri‘s things to pack what else he might need in St. Petersburg.

This was how Victor happened upon the stack of Yuuri‘s old posters that had once decorated the walls of his bedroom, now stowed away in a large folder under his bed.

"Yuuri!“, Victor chirped when he opened the folder and was confronted with his own face, "What‘s this?“

Yuuri‘s smile was automatic when he heard his name doubled; he had long since gotten used to the strange sensation, but it never failed to make him happy, this reminder that they belonged together. When he looked over and saw what Victor was holding, though, he felt heat rising into his face.

Just a little. He had a long time to get used to the fact that Victor had had a front row seat to much of Yuuri‘s obsession with him. Some posters weren‘t exactly the worst that he had witnessed. 

"Ah“, Yuuri said, "I used to have these up on the walls here. I took them down before you first came to Hasetsu.“

Victor nodded and flipped through the posters with a grin, commenting on one or the other or laughing about the ridiculous poses, until he reached a particular one and stilled.

Yuuri didn‘t have to get a good look at it to see which it was; the colour scheme alone was enough. After all, the Eros costume had become very familiar to him over the last year.

He bit down on his lips as he watched Victor looking down at the poster of himself, long hair flowing behind him, slender body twisted into a spin. Yuuri wondered if he was mad, or upset, but his face was unreadable.

Yuuri cleared his throat when the silence became unbearable.

"I got rid of most of the posters and merch I had when you came out. Gave them away, mostly. I didn‘t know how you‘d feel about it, of course, but it didn‘t seem quite right keeping them. Uhm.“

Victor‘s eyes flickered up to him for a moment, but his expression was still shuttered.

"I couldn‘t quite make myself get rid of this one“, Yuuri continued, "because, you know…“

"It‘s signed“, Victor completed the sentence, running his fingers along the dark ink of his own signature, and the place where he had written Yuuri‘s name.

Yuuri nodded, quietly.

"Did we do a signed run of this one?“, Victor asked, "Personalised, too. I don‘t remember that. But then it was a long time ago…. Did you buy it online?“

"Ah, no…“, Yuuri hesitated. "It was… you signed it for me. At a Junior Grand Prix event here in Tokyo.“

Victor properly tore his gaze away from the poster now, staring at Yuuri.

"You… we met?“

Yuuri shrugged. "If you wanna call it that. There were a lot of people there. I got your attention somehow and asked for your autograph. You asked my name and signed the poster and thanked me for my support and then you moved on. Hardly a conversation.“

"I asked your name?“

Yuuri gave a weak smile, knowing exactly what Victor was thinking. He had thought about it plenty of times himself since they had properly met in Sochi.

"You asked what my name was, and I said Yuuri and you wrote it down. You never said it yourself.“

"Ah“, Victor was still staring at him, brow furrowed, "Just imagine, if either of us had said the other‘s name. How much sooner we would have found each other.“

"Well“, Yuuri said, shrugging again, "I did call your name. Quite a lot actually. Just, you know… your deadname.“

"But…“, Victor shook his head, "I didn‘t hear you. I never heard anything until…“

"Of course not“, Yuuri said, "Why would you have? It wasn‘t your name.“

"Oh.“

Victor‘s eyes widened as he stared at Yuuri silently. After a few breathless moments, his eyes filled with tears, rapidly spilling over his lashes. 

"Vitya?“, Yuuri quickly dropped what he was holding and awkwardly shuffled on his knees across the floor to Victor to reach out his hands to him. "I‘m sorry, did I say something wrong? Please, don‘t cry.“

Victor shook his head rapidly and dropped the folder with the posters, reaching back toward Yuuri and gripping his hands firmly. He pulled Yuuri closer to him, leaning back as he did, until Yuuri was draped on top of him, both awkwardly sprawling over the piles of stuff spread out on the bedroom floor.

Victor‘s arms came up to wrap tightly around Yuuri‘s shoulders, burying his face in Yuuri‘s neck. Yuuri could feel him shaking.

"It wasn‘t my name“, Victor murmured against Yuuri‘s skin.

"Vitya?“

"All those years I thought I didn‘t have a soulmate because no one could ever want me. Not with… how I was. But all this time you were there and you just didn‘t know my name yet.“

"Sweetheart“, Yuuri whispered, tilting his head to press a kiss into Victor‘s hair, " _Victor_. I‘ve always wanted you. I‘ll always want you.“

Victor held him tighter and they remained like that for a few more minutes, tangled up in each other on the uncomfortable floor, Yuuri stroking Victor‘s hair until his shaking subsided.

Then Victor tilted his head back, and Yuuri propped himself up on one arm so he could look at his fiancé, wiping away the tears drying on his cheeks. Turning his head, Victor pressed a kiss to the palm of Yuuri‘s hand.

"You know“, he whispered, "I always assumed that you only found out about me when I came out. For a long time… well, I thought maybe you were trans, too. I thought maybe that‘s why you started following my career, and were so excited when I transitioned.“

"Ah… no, I knew you well before then. And, uhm, I‘m not, but that doesn‘t mean I didn‘t appreciate what you did to subvert the expectations people had of figure skating. The way you always pushed the envelope, always did things your way, not caring about whether or not people approved. Your routines, your costumes… what you did with the Lilac Fairy back then was—“, Yuuri cut himself off, feeling like he was getting off track. "Anyway. Uhm. What you did, in such a prominent position in the sport, too. That was really inspiring. And really brave.“

Yuuri dipped his head, his eyes trailing along Victor‘s neck and collarbone, not quite able to meet his eyes.

"You know, I do see myself as a man, but I‘ve also never been very good at meeting the expectations that people had of me, being a man. You know, with the skating and the ballet and pole dancing, and other things, too… uhm, I guess gender nonconforming is what you‘d call it. And after I was called girly or weird or, well, gay a lot of my youth for enjoying these things… it was really good to see someone rejecting the expectations put on them so thoroughly. To… well, for you to assert and affirm your maleness, your masculinity even in these circumstances. To own it the way you did.“ Yuuri forced himself to look up again, meet Victor‘s eyes that were staring at him, large and shining. "It meant a lot to me.“

"Yuuri…“, Victor whispered, cupping Yuuri‘s cheek with one hand, stroking his skin tenderly. "Thank you for telling me this.“ He leaned up and kissed Yuuri‘s lips, once, twice.

Yuuri closed his eyes, humming thoughtfully against Victor‘s lips.

"Of course I didn‘t think about it like this back then“, he murmured when they pulled back, "I had no idea about any of this. I just thought it was really cool, what you did. But…“, he sighed, "I‘ve been thinking about it a lot since… well, since I started skating Eros.“

Victor nodded softly. "The most beautiful woman in town.“

"Mh.“ Yuuri allowed himself a small smile. "It was really fun toying with that. Seeing how far my femininity goes. I‘d never really allowed myself that before.“

Victor nodded again, looking up at him tenderly, without expectation, just patiently waiting for him to find his words.

"It‘s still new“, Yuuri said with a shrug, trying to sound more light-hearted than he felt, "I‘m still figuring it out.“

"That‘s okay“, Victor said, pushing Yuuri‘s hair back from his forehead, "There‘s no rush. Take your time, and I‘ll be here whenever you want someone to talk to about it. Or just someone to listen. I can do that, too.“

"Thank you“, Yuuri whispered, tipping his head down to rest his forehead against Victor‘s.

"No, thank you, Yuuri“, Victor whispered back, wrapping his arms around Yuuri‘s shoulders once more, holding him tight, "Thank you for sharing this with me.“

They remained like this for a few long, quiet minutes, just breathing each other in and listening to their shared heartbeats in the silence, until Victor started squirming with the items strewn on the floor poking his back uncomfortably.

Yuuri sat up with a watery laugh. "Come on“, he said, pulling Victor up with him and wiping away some tears he hadn‘t noticed beading at his own eyelashes, "I guess we should get back to it.“

Victor nodded and they both surveyed the piles strewn across the room, the folder with Yuuri‘s posters dropped carelessly in the middle of them. 

They clasped their hands together, ring pressed firmly against ring. 

They had a whole life ahead of them to figure things out, together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this 💖💖💖
> 
> If you like what I do and want to support me, you can check out my pinned tweet on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/nihidea_art/) 💜 I also have a [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/MGZdMQc) for all my lovely supporters and friends (18+, sorry)! 
> 
> Comments are always lovely! 💕
> 
> Work title from [Agree to Stay by Liquido](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G661rhDt9Yg)
> 
> _How I wish I was free_  
>  _The more I think,_  
>  _the more I do._  
>  _Still anything reminds me of you._  
>  _I smell your hair,_  
>  _I hear your voice,_  
>  _I feel you..._


End file.
